


Blaze of Glory

by Canon_Is_Relative, stardust_made



Series: The College AU [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, Boys Seriously In Love, Domestic, Drama, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Real Life, Texting, working out a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5303138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_made/pseuds/stardust_made
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If it was left to me we wouldn't stop anywhere, we’d never have a roof above our heads. We'd just hunt and hunt and kill, until we got killed or worse, maimed or something. And we'd be stuck at the hip, we'd drink and fuck all the time and that'd be it..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blaze of Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lochinvar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lochinvar/gifts).



> Written with great care and appreciation for Lochinvar for her very generous donation to the [fandom4syria](http://fandom4syria.livejournal.com/) campaign. We are sorry it took us a bit longer, but we hope the result is worth it - thank you again! 
> 
> In the beginning, there is a reference to the events of 'Catch Me' that take place in [Chapter 27](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2816813/chapters/7412063).
> 
> Those of you who have followed this 'verse closely may notice something different in this chapter. We hope you find it good different.

_September 2009, Sauk City, WI_

_Dean_

 

Time was, going out for breakfast was basically an all-day affair. 

Sam liked to blame Dean for that but the truth was pretty obvious when it was Sammy’s octopus arms keeping them in bed long after the alarm went off. He can remember the way Sam laughed at him, that time they showed up twenty minutes after the diner had stopped serving bacon. His face must have showed just exactly how crushing that news was to his soul and Sammy, the bitch, thought it was funny. 

Didn’t really matter now, Dean thought, looking across the table at his little brother. Sam could laugh at him for anything under the sun, long as Dean got to keep seeing that smile on his face. Sammy and joy were made to go together, he’d known that since the kid first started talking and laughing, it was just the way of things, but these last couple years had really cemented that in him, upgrading the truth of it from a theory to a law and making him take seriously his part in getting Sam that way, keeping him there. Gone were the days when, _It’s okay, Sammy_ , a Batman band-aid, and an Indy marathon did the trick. This grown-up little brother of his, this whatever-else-than-a-brother he’d gotten himself wrapped up with, he was a deep son of a bitch, he needed things Dean couldn’t even pronounce much less try to understand. But it was still Dean’s job to…

Sam snorted at something he was reading, shaking his head so that his hair fell into his face. Again. Dean rolled his eyes, his train of thought evaporating, which was for the best. Never mind the three cups of coffee he’d already had and the way the clock was ticking towards noon, it was still too fuckin’ early for all this maudlin bullshit. He reached across the table, jostling Sam, and the quick flash of annoyance on Sam’s face before he looked up and refocused on Dean with a slow smile just meant an extra kick to Sam’s shin under the table and a raised eyebrow while Dean poured cream into his coffee. 

Time was, Dean thought, he never would have even pretended to agree to breakfast before nine in the AM…and that’s where he had to call himself a liar because he could still taste that rusty flood of shame in the back of his mouth, buckets of coffee doing nothing to wash it down, waiting in the diner for his no-show brother. Lured there by what he realized too late was not the promise it sounded like.

 _I have class at ten and I want to see you, so I guess you’ll have to choose between sleep and me._

Dean had chosen Sam, as if that was ever an actual choice, but Sam hadn’t reciprocated, not that time.

And now, this morning, more than a year after all that – not that Dean even thought about it anymore, he’s over it! – he was sitting across from a chair that might as well be empty but Dean’s already used up his one strike for the morning – “Warn me next time you’re planning to stand me up for a hot date with your textbook, I could still be in bed right now, dude.” – and all it got him was a snort and a light press of Sam’s foot against his. Followed a minute later by Sam looking up of his own free will and giving Dean one of those looks that Dean is pretty sure is only ever for him, the stupid smile with the eyes and the dimples. Sam hadn’t moved his foot away, had gone and hooked his ankle around Dean’s, and for a minute or two Sam was so present there with him that Dean felt the contentment of it like a long slug of just-hot-enough coffee sloshing through him, seeping into his bones. When Sam finally looked back down Dean had kind of…collapsed back into the chair, sinking into the cushion with his strings cut, boneless and happy, reaching for his fork and scraping the last smears of pie off his plate.

Hell yeah, the pie at this place was awesome. Even awesome – no, especially awesome! – for breakfast, which was exactly what he was having because that’s exactly how much attention Sam was paying when Dean ordered. The bitchface he got when the waiter actually delivered it was pretty epic, though, and yet in no way stopped Sammy from swiping a bite off his plate the moment Dean gave him an opening and because Dean is an awesome brother, and Sammy deserves more of the good stuff in life, Dean had allowed it. But he’ll dispute anyone who says he pushed the plate a little closer to Sam’s side of the table when Sam wasn’t looking!

Looked like this breakfast was on point of turning into an all-day affair too, but not for any good reason, not like that time last spring, first Sunday morning in their new house, when Dean managed to squeeze an extra half hour of sleep out of his annoyingly wakeful brother before said brother managed to tease an extra couple of orgasms out of the both of them and they didn’t make it to breakfast until even the after-church crowd had fluttered off to do whatever folks do on Sundays after they’ve eaten all the bacon in the city. 

Man, that had been an awesome day. Lingering over their burgers and onion rings and milk shakes and Sam’s salad and two slices of pie until it was almost dinner time. That’s the way all-day breakfast should be, not this…nerd fest with Sam’s books and papers all piled up and crowding Dean onto one half of his side of the table and the waiter laying the side-eyes on them because Sam kept downing coffee long after the dude cleared their plates away. Dean was kind of embarrassed to be there, to be honest, it was as bad as the way Sam used to take his research to the bar but at least then it was all in the name of the family business.

“Nice try, Nerdy,” he said, the next time Sam reached out for his coffee and his hand closed on empty air.

“What’s…” Sam blinked, bringing himself back from the edge of his nerdgasm and narrowing his eyes at Dean. “What the hell, Dean, give me my coffee, jerk!”

“Bitch. Take it.” Dean made a show of taking a long gulp before sliding the mug back to Sam, nothing but dregs and backwash left in the bottom. “Let’s hit the road, Sammy,” Dean said, chair scraping against linoleum. The waiter appeared at his side and Dean dug into his pocket for his wallet, handing the guy a couple twenties and telling him to keep the change before heading for the door.

Sam tripped out into the parking lot a good dozen paces behind him, still cramming stuff into his bag. “What was the bill?” Sam asked, catching up. Dean frowned at him and Sam rolled his eyes. “Did you tip him enough?”

“I may not be College Geek Boy but I had a while sittin’ there to figure it and I’m pretty sure eight on a thirty-two buck tab is better’n twenty percent.”

“Dean…” Sam trailed off on a sigh, shaking his head, and followed Dean into the car. “I’m not finished studying.”

“And I didn’t buy you that giant-ass desk just to fuck you on it. Which has happened…oh right, never. Waste of money if you ask me.”

“You didn’t buy it for me, just because you signed for the credit card doesn’t mean you bought it for me, it was our money.”

“Are you kidding me,” Dean muttered, checking his mirrors while he turned the engine over. A glance sideways at Sam showed the kid still giving him the priss face and Dean set his jaw. “Figure of speech, Sam,” he said, turning up the radio.

\---

Dean’s phone rang, interrupting him where he was busy working on a whole lot of nothing. 

“Gotta teach you to fetch,” Dean said to Birdy, pushing himself up off the couch with a groan to rummage through the clutter on Sam’s desk. Birdy watched him for a minute then lowered her head to her paws with a sigh that sounded so much like Sam that Dean paused for a moment, Christo on the tip of his tongue. But then she rolled onto her side and farted so loud she scared herself and went tearing across the living room to curl up on her dog bed in the corner.

Still laughing, Dean nabbed his phone just before it went to voicemail.

“Sammy,” he said, all but wheezing, “your dog, man—” 

“Dean? Hey, just a second.” Тhere was loud rustling over the line and Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, grimacing, as Sam said faintly, “Was it the 1940 or the 1974 that you wanted?”

“Huh? Sammy, what—”

“Just hold on a second, man,” Sam said, continuing his conversation with whoever-it-was that wasn’t Dean. “Okay, Dean? Hey I need a favor. Can you get into the documents on my computer? There’s a folder titled 1974, could you email it to ‘b.fischer@uwmadison.edu’? I’ll spell it when you’re ready.”

“Dude,” Dean said, already reaching for the bag Sam had left by the desk. “I know how to spell fisher. Why didn’t you take the laptop?”

“I didn’t think I’d need it. Did you find it?”

“You could maybe thank me for being so awesome instead of rushing me,” Dean muttered, sorting through Sam’s ten million files. “Yeah, got it. When are you gonna be back, I thought you were just dropping shit off.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, I ran into my advisor at the library and he agreed to look over my notes, so.”

“Yeah.” Dean swallowed against saying anything else. “Sent.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“I think I found a hunt.”

“…What?”

“Yeah.” Dean coughed, switched his phone to his left hand and rubbed his right against his thigh. “No, I mean, I think I’m gonna look for a hunt.”

“Um, okay. Are you heading out?”

“What? No! I’m just, I’m just telling you. Don’t burn yourself out on studying, might have a job for us by the time you get back.”

“Dean, I have to go.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“See you soon, all right?”

“Yeah. Later, Sam.”

\---

[Dean, two hours later]  
Found the pictures on your laptop, Sammy, you pervert

 

[Sam]  
What? I don't know what you're talking about. 

 

[Dean]  
Aw Sammy don't play innocent with me, not gonna fly

[Sam]  
I'm not a pervert you're a pervert, what are you still doing on my laptop?

 

[Dean]  
Dude, I'm offended, I’m working

 

[Sam]  
Screw you, you’re snooping 

You're like a stalker. 

 

[Dean]  
I'm not the one who's got shirtless pictures of his brother on his computer

Alright, picture

But I bet you got a whole stash of them somewhere. Go on, admit it

 

[Sam]  
We could make it pictures. 

Plural, I mean. If you'd hold still and not make stupid faces. 

 

[Dean]  
You gotta buy me dinner first, treat me real nice

I'm looking at your stupid face how am I supposed to not make stupid faces?

I don't even know when you took this one

 

[Sam]  
Okay, I admit it, I have this totally hot brother who I am completely crazy about and we're sleeping together and maybe this one time (once!) he was drunk and had his shirt off and I was maybe a little tipsy and I couldn't help it because he was being ridiculous and sexy as hell so I guess I took a picture and somehow it ended up on my computer. There, I confess. 

You don't remember?

 

[Dean]  
I was not being ridiculous, I was being awesome

No

 

[Sam]  
Dude we'd been drinking at the Dane for like 5 hours. 

 

[Dean]  
That just answered your question, genius boy

Will you let me take a picture of your ass now?

 

[Sam]  
We got home and you were like out of your shirt before we even got in the door and started, I don't know, posing and being an asshole. 

It was adorable. 

No, you cannot take a picture of my ass. What are you, 15?

 

[Dean]  
Said the dude who's taking shirtless pictures of his whatever I am to you that's not just a brother, I’m not 15 you’re 15

 

[Sam]  
You're everything to me including my brother and if I were 15 this would be illegal on so many more levels. 

 

[Dean]  
What do you mean I was posing? I was not posing!

I probably just took off my shirt and wanted to go to bed and you were a pervert and thought I was gonna do some pole dancing for you

 

[Sam]  
Dude. You were posing. 

Oh yeah, you're probably right. I could see how that mistake would be easy to make...if there was a POLE in our living room. 

 

[Dean]  
Well I still wanna take pictures of your ass, don't care how old you think I am, I'm old enough to nail that ass so I should be allowed to take pictures of it

 

[Sam]  
Let me ask you something, Dean. 

 

[Dean]  
What's that?

If I answer do I get to take a picture of your ass?

 

[Sam]  
Is there a pole in our living room?

 

[Dean]  
Nо 

 

[Sam]  
There isn't a pole in the living room? Huh. Well then, I guess I'm not a pervert and you really were just posing for me of your own free will. 

 

[Dean]  
How does the lack of a pole stop you from picturing me doing a little Jenna Haze number for you right in the middle of our living room, huh? 

That's the only explanation why you thought I was posing. I was not posing you were posing

God I'm so fucking hot for you right now, what the hell???

 

[Sam]  
And I'm the one with the wild imagination. 

 

[Dean]  
Shut up

 

[Sam]  
You don't actually want me to shut up. 

 

[Dean]  
I'mma get you drunk and spread you out and make you so hot for me and then I'mma get you to pose for me, you just wait

I want you to shut up in all kinds of ways

 

[Sam]  
Oh, is that what's gonna happen? Let me guess, way #1 is with your dick in my mouth.

I'm waiting with baited breath. 

 

[Dean]  
Oh you're so full of yourself!

 

[Sam]  
Gonna be full of you soon enough, sounds like.

 

[Dean]  
And anyways I don't remember that time you're talking about so we only got your word for it and I'm disputing it

That's the word, right?

 

[Sam]  
You got any witnesses lined up for this disputation?

 

[Dean]  
You wanna go and ask around? Neighbors will sure be mighty pleased

Why did you have to say that, you are evil! Why's education so important to you, screw it, come home and let’s screw instead

 

[Sam]  
I don't quite see how "being fucked five ways to Sunday" and "evil" are the same thing. 

 

[Dean]  
It's evil cuz I can't do it right now and I wanna

 

[Sam]  
If I could do nothing but screw around with you while maintaining my scholarship, I’d be all for it.

It's only 6 more months, Dean. 

 

[Dean]  
You always make me wait, we gotta finish cleaning the guns first, we gotta do the dishes first, you gotta finish your paper first

Sucks to be me

:(

I'mma lose it cuz I don't use it

 

[Sam]  
Wow, okay, let's do a 180 and talk about Dean Winchester and his sucky life. I didn't realize we were doing the lifetime movie awards. 

Seriously you're gonna lay that on me now?

 

[Dean]  
Fuck you! Oh wait, I can't cuz my life sucks :(

We haven't fooled around for real in like a week

And before you say anything five days is almost like a week

I know it was the hunt too

I'm sorry, Sammy

 

[Sam]  
Dean, I'm really busy, okay? And I can't just put stuff on hold, I can't not study and I can't not show up for class. 

I told you that like a hundred times before we moved in. 

 

[Dean]  
Yeah I know

 

[Sam]  
So quit it with the guilt act it's not gonna work. 

Don't forget you've been my brother my whole life and I am well versed in ignoring you. 

I miss you Dean. It sucks. But it's only for a little while longer. 

 

[Dean]  
Alright

 

[Sam]  
You're pissed?

 

[Dean]  
No

 

[Sam]  
K

So, naked pics. We could do that. 

 

[Dean]  
Yeah, ok

 

[Sam]  
Hey, come on. 

I'm sorry, Dean, okay? I know I haven't been the most responsive lately. And I'm sorry. 

 

[Dean]  
It's ok, Sammy, not your fault

 

[Sam]  
Not great at balancing things in the moment, I guess. I see this great light at the end of the tunnel and the fact that I'm in a tunnel for awhile doesn't actually bother me, even though it probably should. 

 

[Dean]  
I'm going to head out with the car, see you back at home later, ok?

 

[Sam]  
Yeah, okay. 

 

[Dean]  
You gotta do what you gotta do. It's good, that's the way it should be

 

[Sam]  
Makes me feel like a kid again. 

 

[Dean]  
Sounds about right, there's always me pushing you to grow up faster

 

[Sam]  
Were you this upset about me, back then? I was always blowing off you and dad to study and back then you mostly had my back with dad. 

Was that an act?

 

[Dean]  
I didn't think about it at the time. I guess I wasn't happy but didn't dig in too deep

I always was selfish where it comes to you, only now it's kinda worse and not just because I can see it

 

[Sam]  
Yeah, you were. But any worse than I was with you? Probably not. 

What else makes it worse?

 

[Dean]  
Doesn't matter

It's like I get this tunnel vision sometimes too and I know you got other stuff in your life, hell I know you got a life but I forget it too, it's all me, me, me. I'm like freaking obsessed with you and it's not going away

I don't know, it freaks me out

 

[Sam]  
Dean. God, man, don't even worry about it. I'm right there with you. 

The word obsession has such an ugly ring to it. 

 

[Dean]  
No, you're not right there with me, that's the whole point

And it's got an ugly ring to it because it's an ugly thing, like suffocating

You keep us on track, Sam

 

[Sam]  
What? What the hell do you mean, of course I am. 

 

[Dean]  
If it was left to me we wouldn't stop anywhere, we’d never have a roof above our heads, Sam. We'd just hunt and hunt and kill, until we got killed or worse, maimed or something. And we'd be stuck at the hip, we'd drink and fuck all the time and that'd be it

I'm going for a drive

 

[Sam, ten minutes later]  
Is that really what you want, Dean? Grab me and go off the map, go out in a blaze of glory?

 

[Dean, after an hour.]  
No, that's not what I want. Doesn't mean I wouldn't do it

It’s freaking me out, man, all I want is to do stuff with you

 

[Sam]  
I don't really know what to say to that, Dean. I mean, it's not like any of this is really new, right? It seems like I've always been the most important thing in the world to you, I'm getting that now, even if I haven't always seen it. Does it bother you? Feeling this way? 

 

[Dean, around midnight.]  
It doesn't bother me and that's what's bothering me

I mean what you said earlier today, about how you've always been the most important thing in my life. It should bother me, it should have. Then I'd learn to shut my pie hole and stop acting like some freaking neglected Stepford wife, leave you alone and go do something else

 

[Sam]  
Why are you trying to talk yourself around to being bothered by something you're not bothered by? 

 

[Dean]  
Cuz maybe I'm finally starting to get bothered by it, genius and it’s not making me feel so good

 

[Sam]  
What caused it, what's bothering you? Was it something I did?

Dean, earlier, I said I was right there with you and you said no, I wasn't. You know that's not true, right? Let me use your word: I'm just as obsessed as you are. Maybe I show it differently that you do, but I am. I get so lost without you, Dean. Even when it's not two years or six months, or whatever, even just a couple days. It freaks me out and I know it's not normal or whatever, but I don't really care because it's us and it works. 

Usually, anyway. It works, right?

 

[Dean]  
It's nothing you did, Sam. You're just trying to live your life. You know, the kind you got outside your freakishly obsessed brother who thinks you’re over him because you don't wanna fuck all the damn time like you did at the start

I don't know, man. Yeah, it does, usually. But things are different now. Like, I didn't exactly used to worry before if you didn't ogle me every time I came out of the shower. Before we started this I mean

 

[Sam]  
It's nothing to do with not wanting you, dude, can we please not devolve this into a shouting match about how often we have sex? You're doing it again, playing out this whole drama about us and deciding what it means that I'm doing this or saying that. 

[Dean]  
Oh well sorry to have dragged you into this performance then, princess, cuz it's so beneath you! 

[Sam]  
Can we start over, I don't even know what we're talking about anymore. 

What's bothering you, really? Is it how we've kind of settled down? With the house and with us, it's kind of gotten, I don't know, normal?

Can I say anything that's going to make you believe how much I want you and how stupidly crazy I am about you?

 

[Dean]  
It doesn't matter, let's just go to sleep

 

[Sam]  
I wish you hadn't left. 

 

[Dean]  
Just leave it, Sam, ok? 

 

[Sam]  
Could you please not do that?

[8 minutes later.]  
Goodnight, Dean. 

I miss you, dumbass. 

 

[Dean]  
You noticed I was gone, did you?

 

[Sam]  
What the hell, Dean?

 

[Dean]  
Fuck I hate this, I fucking hate it, how it's screwing with my head, how it's making me feel, I hate it

 

[Sam]  
What the hell? What do you hate? 

Dean you're freaking me out, man. 

Please talk to me, Dean. You don't mean you don't want what we have, do you? I don't think you do but I can't tell what you mean, I don't know what's got you so freaked out. I'm sorry I haven't been around enough lately, I'm sorry I haven't made it clear enough how I feel. 

 

[Dean]  
I wasn't making any drama, you're always doing this! You think I'm enjoying this? You think I like keeping track of when we have sex or how often we don't! Yeah, it's awesome, how did I not think about it before, could have passed the time so good!

 

[Sam]  
I wasn't making drama, how was I making drama?

 

[Dean]  
This! Feelings and arguing and me bitching at you if you noticed I was gone, what the hell! I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth sometimes 

And you trying to handle me, tell me how pretty I am, what next, Sam, you gonna buy me jewelry? This isn't me, Sam, it's driving me nuts, feels like I'm losing it

 

[Sam]  
That's not what I was doing. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. 

 

[Dean]  
No, dumbass, you said I was making drama or whatever and you always turn it on me!

 

[After a couple of minutes.]  
Told you to let it go

 

[Sam]  
Okay.

 

[Dean, 30 min later.]  
Sorry Sam. Night.

 

[Sam]  
Yeah. See you tomorrow. 

Think you'll be back tomorrow?

 

[Dean]  
I'd drive out right now if I could. Yeah, I'll be back tomorrow

 

[Sam]  
Why can't you?

 

[Dean]  
Drank too much. Think I might stop by Bobby’s on the way back too. As soon as I’m fit to drive I’m gonna take off. Gonna catch some shuteye in the back now

 

[Sam]  
Okay. Drive safe tomorrow. I have the day off. 

 

[Dean]  
Ok

 

[Sam]  
This is the part where you say, "It’s Tuesday, don't you have work and that thing?" And I say "No I don't, I traded shifts and I don't care about that thing."

 

[Dean]  
I just freaked out ok?

 

[Sam]  
I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it worse. 

 

[Dean]  
I'm not gonna say that, are you nuts?

 

[Sam]  
Only a little.

 

[Dean]  
I don't even know, Sammy. How the hell do people do this?

 

[Sam]  
Because it's worth it? I don't know, Dean. 

 

[Dean]  
You still have a thing tomorrow night, only it's a different thing

 

[Sam]  
Is that so? I hope it's a good thing. 

 

[Dean]  
It's called hanging out with your brother and eating fajitas and watching a Bruce Lee movie

 

[Sam]  
Oh, hell yeah. 

 

[Dean]  
You wanna make out after?

 

[Sam]  
Yeah, okay 

 

[Dean]  
Good. And beers!

I hope it's a good thing for you too. Sammy, I'm really trying, ok? You gotta believe me

 

[Sam]  
I believe you, Dean. 

 

[Dean]  
If you don't wanna it's alright, I mean it, just maybe soon, that's all, ok?

 

[Sam]  
I wanna, Dean. I really do. 

 

[Dean]  
Yeah ok, good. Me too. 

You probably noticed

 

[Sam]  
Yeah I noticed :) 

 

[Dean]  
See you tomorrow, ok, Sammy?

 

[Sam]  
Yeah Dean. Good night. I really miss you okay? I wish you were here now. 

 

[Dean]  
Yeah, me too, like I'm not saying anything cuz I don't wanna go back to the circle jerk where I act like some freaking nutjob, but fuck Sam. It's just one night but fuck, you know?

 

[Sam]  
Yeah, I know. 

You're not a nutjob, for the record. 

 

\---

_Sam_

_Do the last load of laundry, put away the dry load, let the dog out, get the dog in, fix that curtain pole, put some beers in the fridge…_

Still time insisted on dragging. Studying was out of the question. After weeks of doing little else Sam did not want to see anything in written form more elaborate than a shopping list. 

He wished he was naïve enough to blame last night’s clash with Dean on the weeks he had spent devoted to his studies and ignoring Dean. Well, Dean was the only one who thought he’d been ignored, but that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t about how many times they’d had sex in a week or how much time they’d spent chilling out together lately. 

Dean had freaked out. As much as his seemed like an uncomplicated soul, especially in comparison with the oblique depths Sam’s own tended to explore, Dean was hard to understand sometimes. He could genuinely take in stride complex concepts—occasionally even displays of emotion!—as well as grotesqueness and death, yet other things wormed their way into him creating dark mazes. Guilt and suppression and difficulty to see in shades of gray sometimes…But that was part of Dean; Sam could live with that and accept it. It was part of his brother—his brother and his beautiful mind, with which he would probably try to kill Sam, Darth Vader style, if he ever heard Sam’s poetic descriptions of him. 

What Sam struggled to accept was how Dean would freak out at random times over something done and dusted. 

Maybe that was actually normal, Sam thought, peering out of the window for the third time to check for the sight of the Impala approaching. Things caught up with people, following some inner, often unfathomable logic. Who knew what the catalyst was? Sam had figured out finally that Dean was in torment about something involving their relationship. Something about the power of his own needs had really seemed to shock him. He hadn’t missed on the opportunity to beat himself up about suffocating Sam, or at least Sam thought there’d been something of that lurking in there too. Dean’s past and upbringing were catching up with him, making him wriggle about like a worm on a fisherman’s hook. From what Sam got, Dean was trying to make sense of himself in a completely new, unprecedented context. He was also figuring out how to be in a relationship. With his brother, no less.

_If it was left to me we wouldn't stop anywhere, we would never have a roof above our heads, Sam. We'd just hunt and hunt and kill, until we got killed or worse, maimed or something. And we'd be stuck at the hip, we'd drink and fuck all the time and that'd be it_

_Is that really what you want, Dean? Grab me and go off the map, go out in a blaze of glory?_

Sam had waited over an hour for Dean’s reply, head a whirring mess of contradiction. There was the fear that Dean would say ‘yes’ and forsake everything they’d put together between them so painstakingly, ask of Sam to forsake it too. There was the hope that Dean would tell him, “No, dumbass. We’ve got it good now, I’m not that person anymore.” Maybe even credit him; bestow some more praise upon him. “You’ve kept us on the straight and narrow, Sammy. You’ve kept us sane.”

But there’d also been a silver tongued, quiet, perverse voice of hope. That Dean _would_ say ‘yes’. Ask Sam to leave it all behind, cut ties, hit the road and never look back. Hunt and hunt and kill, drink and fuck all the time. Because Dean’s past and upbringing were Sam’s too after all. It wasn’t as simple as the choice between freedom and shackles. It was what Sam _knew_ to his very bones. The only part of their past where their background differed, where they hadn’t been joined at the hip…Sam already thought of it as something like a director’s experiment. A wholesome, good chapter that nonetheless wouldn’t make it to the final cut, because Stanford simply did not fit. 

_No, that's not what I want. Doesn't mean I wouldn't do it._  


In the end, Dean’s reply had proven to Sam once again that his amazing big brother was capable of intricacy of self-awareness that really should have stopped surprising Sam long ago.

Sam pressed his forehead against the window. He just had to show Dean they were going to be okay. He gnawed halfheartedly at the cuticles on his right hand, anxiety evoking the surreal sensation that his eyes were literally bulging while staring into the distance. He wanted his brother back home. He needed to put his hands all over him or just be in the same room as him, look at him. It would be enough; a switch would flip in Dean’s head and make him take this one in his stride, too: they were them, layers upon layers upon layers of them. Not to be ruminated over, not to be challenged, not to be afraid of. Dean only had to come back home. They would be okay.

\---  
Sam was taking a shower—he’d done push-ups and sit-ups for close to an hour—and had just stopped the water when he heard the familiar sounds of commotion downstairs indicating Dean was back. His body was tingling pleasantly, the excess energy built up by tension having dissipated completely. After his work out, Sam had walked into the bathroom not quite on edge anymore but still needing something more. He hadn’t wanted to diminish even a fraction of his desire, as much as for his own pleasure later (he hoped) as for means to show Dean just how much he was wanted. So he’d gone down the route of both business and pleasure, getting himself ready for Dean. 

There were downsides to certain kinds of sex, and Sam’s practical streak had identified them straight away. He wasn’t going to romanticize something that wasn’t especially romantic, namely the lack of spontaneity. Very privately, his mind had strayed down memory lane in regret for all those times when he had just slid into Jess exactly when they’d both wanted to, making that first push sublime. Not even a few seconds to put a condom on, once they’d become exclusive and Jess had gone on the pill. It had been so good. Passion was so often urgency, and when he and Dean first started having anal sex Sam could have cried all those times when he’d craved having Dean inside, but had to wait until his body would accept what it still treated as intrusion. These days it was easier but Sam knew Dean would still up and take his hard-on away in a blink of an eye rather than penetrate Sam without preparation. Sam thought if he played through the pain they’d get there faster, but there was something to be said about the rule that both parties should be on board with whatever was happening in the bedroom.

He used his towel for its purpose, quickly debating with himself whether or not to just wrap it around his hips and go downstairs like that. But if his sensitive brother was still in a funk, he would probably think Sam was trying to ‘handle him’ or whatever, so Sam threw on a clean t-shirt and his favorite pair of jeans he only wore at home, then headed downstairs calling, “Hey,” from the landing.

“Hey,” Dean called back, looking up from the couch where Birddog was sprawled half on top of him, bliss in every muscle of her lean body as Dean’s hands absent-mindedly scratched her neck and stroked her belly. Sam stopped in his tracks, unable to suppress his huff of laughter at the sight. Dean’s lips twitched tiredly, making the surge of affection in Sam close to overwhelming. 

“How was the drive?” Sam asked, walking down the rest of the steps.

“Long.”

“How’s Bobby?”

“Good.”

Sam nodded.

“You eaten?” he asked.

“Not for five hours.”

“Wanna take a shower? I’ll heat up some of the chili con carne. I’ll drive out later to pick up some fajitas for tonight.”

Dean rose slowly. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Without thinking Sam closed the distance between them, right hand gently cupping the base of Dean’s head, while the other rested on the curve of his neck. His eyes roamed Dean’s stunning features, striking again after only twenty-four hours of Sam not seeing them. Dean’s mouth looked like he’d spent the night thinking, and his eyes, drooping a little but not avoiding eye-contact, spoke of aging. _Or maybe growing up_ , crossed Sam’s mind while he kept gazing at Dean.

“You going to just stand there grinning like a loon,” Dean muttered, “or you going to fix me up some food?”

Sam’s smile continued to spread out on his face in increments until his jaw started to hurt. Dean stayed serious, though, face taken over by something dazed and a little awed as he just shook his head lightly to himself.

\---

Dean had a shower and a shave, then consumed copious amounts of food, if somewhat distractedly, while Sam took out the last of the laundry and put it out to dry. They hardly spoke; Sam couldn’t tell if they were back to normal, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable so he didn’t poke it. After he’d dumped his dirty plate and cutlery in the sink Dean stretched and told Sam he was going upstairs for a nap. 

Sam watched an episode of _Lie to Me_ and did the dishes, then wandered around the living room aimlessly, disturbing the dog where she was trying to catch some shuteye as well. He finally made his way upstairs and crept into the bedroom where he sat down on the rattan chair in the corner, eyes not leaving Dean’s sleeping form.

Maybe it was the bone-deep alertness in Dean that made him such a good hunter or maybe he’d just had enough sleep for now but he stirred, awake, mere ten minutes after Sam had settled down. Dean blinked rapidly a few times, eyes trained on the ceiling, then craned his neck to look ahead at Sam. No comment followed; Dean returned his attention to the ceiling, chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. 

Seconds ticked by, Sam feeling himself sway between some stupefied state and a sense of expectation. 

Dean lifted his hand from his chest and beckoned without looking at him.

Sam crawled over the bed from the foot, laying himself down carefully pressed against Dean’s right side. Neither of them said a word. Dean inhaled and exhaled deeply and turned his face to Sam.

“I’ve been thinking…We should take a drive to Lawrence.”

Sam pulled back. “Really? You want to go back there? Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” Dean sounded a little defensive.

“All right.” Sam stayed quiet for a moment. “For a visit?”

Dean didn’t reply straight away. “Something like that.”

Sam wondered how to keep pushing without really pushing. “Why now?” he asked.

“Don’t know. I guess…I don’t know, just felt like it.” 

Sam held his eyes. “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay.”

Dean propped himself on his elbows and reached for the bottle of water he’d left on the floor by the bed. He took a small sip, then another, before drinking most of it in big gulps without breathing. He plonked himself back on the bed, turning to Sam slightly. The sun had hidden behind a thin, white cloud but Dean hadn’t pulled the blinds down. In the mother-of-pearl daylight his face looked pale, freckles really standing out on his beautiful nose.

“Dude,” Sam murmured, “your nose is beautiful.”

Dean’s lips parted, plush and rested. “Man, what...? Making me sick,” he complained without much heat. 

Sam kissed him. 

Dean kissed back readily, knee sliding over Sam’s thigh. Helplessness in the face of utter contentment flooded Sam and he grinned, loopy, into Dean’s mouth, before resuming the kiss. There was abandon in the way Dean responded, tongue caressing Sam’s in earnest, without any mischief, lips pressing against his time and time again, wet and thorough. 

They made out without any sense of aim, their hands finding skin and favorite spots on each other’s bodies until they fit as if an artistic hand had twined strings of colorful plasticine together. Sam rolled Dean on his back and deepened the kiss, pressing them together head to toe through clothes. The friction was great, enough to keep the pleasure dull and the build-up slow, time fizzing out of existence.

Then Dean was undressing him with efficient and unhurried motions and this time Sam was the one on his back, stark naked, fingers fanning out as they moved up Dean’s back under his sleep-wrinkled t-shirt. He caught glimpses of Dean through the moments his eyelids rose halfway before the gravity of desire tugged them back down every time. Dean’s clean cut jawline, the freckled slope of his ear shell’s contour, the look of single-mindedness on his face. Dean, delivering himself to the act and to Sam without any conscious thought. Clichés rushed in pointless aid to Sam: a beautiful statue of flesh, his hero…He pawed at Dean’s head and held it still between his hands, fused their mouths, tongue probing deep but it was Sam who was choking on emotion. Then Dean was pulling away with a jerky, rotating motion of his head; he moved immediately, pressing open mouthed kisses down Sam’s neck and chest on the way to his abdomen. 

“Sam…Sammy,” he whispered, lifting Sam’s hips and cradling them between his arms, face butting gently against Sam’s pelvis and thighs. He kept nosing and kissing whatever skin he encountered, quickly took Sam in his mouth only to let him out and place light bites to the skin just above. Then he took him in again, deeper and harder this time. 

Sam’s breath left him with a damp sound as he gaped upward, stomach going concave before relaxing. Dean licked around him, mouthed at him forever, a hand caressing Sam’s flank, the other digging into flesh unconsciously. Pleasure sloshed in Sam, reaching wider and wider shores until he couldn’t feel anything from the waist down but the warm, liquid-like sweetness that Dean kept trying to suck out of him. He was lifting his head to look down at Dean, and each time Dean met his gaze before letting his eyes flutter closed. “Dean…God, Dean. Dean.” Sam’s fingers stroked his brother’s arms and face when they weren’t convulsing into folded fists.  
There was wetness everywhere; Dean’s fingers glided through it seamlessly, knuckles rubbing at a sensitive spot on the way further down. “I’ve…I’m ready,” Sam began, voice sounded so husky in his own ears that goosebumps broke up on his arms. “Did it in the shower, couple hours ago, should still be…” Dean was holding him in hand, slowly stroking up and down, the fingers of his other hand stilled in anticipation. “Should be ready to take you in now,” Sam finished, “if you want to.” 

Sam had done this before, yet Dean’s eyes widened, still fixed on his face. It was as if he’d temporarily switched off, pulled back entirely into himself. He grazed a plumper spot of flesh with his teeth distractedly and dragged his shiny, lax lips over it. 

“Boy scout,” he said at last, then lowered his head. Sam gasped again.

\---

Dean’s back was a sleigh slope for Sam’s hands, undulating with the fluid motion of in and out, in and out…Sam held on, fingers clasping around Dean’s shoulder blades and feeling up their ridges, then his nails dug into the warm skin between when Dean stayed still all the way inside him, body quivering minutely. 

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groaned, head turning in a semi-circle of something that looked like desperation and challenge. 

“Come on. Come on,” Sam urged breathlessly, tilting his pelvis, heels sliding against the damp hollow of Dean’s lower back as he tapped them against it. The air snapped between Dean’s teeth and he pulled out, hands maneuvering Sam to convey he wanted him on his stomach. Their eyes met for an electric moment and then Sam was complying. The extra pillow they kept lying around and always put under Sam was getting flatter by the day, Sam noticed in a blur because Dean was pushing his legs closer together and Sam’s heart tried to break through his ribcage when he realized what Dean was doing. Sam always went crazy in this position, out of his mind with pleasure: on his front, legs pressed together and straightened down. That way he could feel every inch of Dean inside him in a more visceral way, every slide and drag magnified until sometimes Sam came without a hand down there, only Dean and the press against the bed covers. 

Dean? Dean hated the position for how much his body loved it. He’d told Sam it was a sprint for him from that point onwards, not a marathon, and now he was hurtling them both forward to the finish line, his legs bracketing Sam’s just as his arms did Sam’s arms. Left hand buried in Sam’s hair, Dean used his right to guide himself back in. Sam pushed himself up a bit, offering. His quiet keening was stifled in another pillow when Dean swore above him and sank in. 

_Nothing feels better than this_ , the thought grappled its way up to coherence. Everything was sweat and friction. Dean covered Sam head to toe, hitched breathing and moans filling up the last crevices in Sam’s head, mingling with Sam’s own panting breath. Dean’s hips moved like they were a lasso dancing in the air, and Sam loved his brother something fierce. 

\---

There were six books stacked up on the window sill. Sam had done the count without any specific reason. Dean was still sleeping, his body positioned on the bed higher than usual and curved in a way that placed his head partially on Sam’s pillow. His nose was buried in the hair on top of Sam’s head and Sam didn’t want to disturb him so he hadn’t moved since he woke up. There was something peaceful in your eyes meeting the same sight over and over again. 

How often was it that epiphanies arrived to us amid no drama at all?

Sam wondered what was behind Dean’s wish to re-visit Lawrence. What paths had his brother’s mind taken to arrive on the yellow brick road? Sam had never expected Dean to want to return there of his own will. He hadn’t even given the possibility any thought. Lawrence, like Stamford, existed in a realm that was _in_ Sam; last night he’d been almost taken by surprise at the sudden reminder that these places existed in the actual physical reality too. Knowing Dean, he would have probably shaken his head at Sam in mute incomprehension mingled with just a twang of exasperation. Dean was capable of abstract thought, but he was never capable of it alone.

Sam rubbed lightly the corner of his right eye. Even from here it was visible how much dust the top book had gathered. It was half by design. Sam had made use of the rest of the books, but each time he put them back in the stack, he lifted the top one and placed the book he had perused under it. The top book already had dust on it anyways, what was the point of getting the other ones dirty, too? This was less work for when he was finally done with studying and could put away the books or rather, return them to the library. 

He’d started buying books lately. Someone had told him back in Stanford that it was a sign of a real home when there were books in a house, who had that been? Janice, that’s right. Her kind smile lingered in Sam’s mind’s eye for a few seconds. The big right tooth in front protruding askew and covering a bit of the left one. Giving Jan more character. 

Funny how familiar people’s faces, even in detail, didn’t make them any more palpably real than the place where Sam had met them. 

But that was Stanford. How could Lawrence be real in the first place? Who had he known there when he and Dean finally returned to the town a few years back. That first time around, Lawrence had been a brand new place for Sam. Inside him, it might have been groaning under the weight of all that Sam had put into it, but in reality he would not have known Lawrence from the next town.

Over the years Sam had been collecting scraps of information about it, because this was what you did when you had no sense of roots. But not just any information. He’d collected short sentences cut shorter; a change of tone at the mention of a name: spoken with gravitas, or something solemn, or sometimes something angry. Dad and Dean, the words theirs just like the shared silence that often followed any brush with the topic of what home used to be. 

Lawrence, Kansas. There was the story of what had happened, which felt more like a myth. The rest was the heavy cupboard stuffed with obscure questions and unfurled fantasies, and with the few human, personal details Sam had gathered in all those years he had been the Listener in their family, trying to catch bits of his identity from the two people in the front seat like a child leaping after dust motes. 

Dean had given answers to little Sam’s questions in his own way—Sam understood now Dean pleading with him to quit asking had been an answer in itself. Later, he’d talked to Sam as best as he knew how, which wasn’t always much but it had been real. It had been honest. Sharing, not excluding. Only one day Sam realized it made his big brother sad when he asked, so he stopped.

Maybe Dean was the one who needed to find some answers now. Maybe Dean had finally come face to face with something he could not slay or drink under the table. A different kind of exorcism for a different kind of demon. Where they were now, what they were now…if Dean needed to go back to _then_ to start figuring out _now_ , Sam was going to go with him. 

He sighed quietly and shifted at last, eyes rolling in his head as he tried to look up. Dean slept on like a baby. He’d put on a t-shirt. Sam extended his neck carefully until the tip of his nose brushed its material. He moved his arm so his knuckles mirrored his nose and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> We wanted to do something special for this one and spontaneously took an unusual approach: while we stayed 'in character' for the text exchange as always - Canon playing Sam and Stardust playing Dean - for the narrative extracts we swapped the POVs. So in all the 180K words of College AU, this is the first time when Canon wrote Dean's POV and Stardust wrote Sam's. We hope it worked. It was certainly exciting for us!


End file.
